


when we learn to stop time

by xivilaii



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Adult Content, Alien Biology, Angst, Anxiety, Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, References to Depression, Sexual Tension, all aboard the pain train, god help me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivilaii/pseuds/xivilaii
Summary: they are in orbit– circling, drifting, fleeting. she is a sun, and he, a world away.( alternatively ; two idiots in love )





	1. blow the smoke in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!  
> i'm writing another set of less plot-heavy vignettes, titled 'breathe deep and feel reality', using a more canon ryder!  
> this set will be longer, angstier, and a far bumpier ride ( or ryde )  
> so, introducing inez, my custom f!ryder; she's sad and angry and will be explored at a far greater depth as she and jaal's relationship progresses!!  
> please enjoy <3

Andromeda was a _grave_ .  
  
The Initiative claimed success upon a podium of the broken bones of failure, as if the masses could simply ignore the pile of skulls collecting beneath them ; well, they did. The Nexus as a collective soul praised their efforts– _her_ efforts, specifically– and clung to Tann’s word as if it were a life raft, to carry them from where they lay adrift. It was pitiful, and it stung; her father’s image had been noble, but what they achieved now bordered on _invasion_ , on colonial conquer.  
  
Alec would be turning in his coffin, if he had ever gotten one– instead, the soils of a new, treacherous world had served as his resting ground, and he had received neither a burial nor proper send-off. His bones were amongst those the Initiative spoke upon like a soapbox, but worse, Inez knew they were what formed the throne on which she sat; her crown, the weathered helmet that now sat in one of her display cases, gathering metaphorical dust– it couldn’t _actually_ grow dusty, due to the Tempest’s ventilation and dispersion systems.        
  
Inez wasn’t sure how to feel about that.  
  
She had a subconscious habit of calling it ‘he’, as if a part of her father had somehow managed to live on inside of it. It was dumb– _ridiculous_ – but nevertheless, Inez would sometimes catch herself turning towards it to bid goodnight, or muttering a soft ‘ _goodbye_ ’ before she left for a mission from which she was not certain she would return. It was empty, she knew, and whenever the knowledge dawned upon her it would feel as if on her chest sat a demon, pressing at her ribs to try and force the breath– the _life_ – out of her.    
  
A great deal of things made her feel like that, though, so Inez tried her best not to pay it too much mind, lest the demon manifest into something less temporary.  
  
Her room was dark, save the light that shone from SAM where he was stationed at her desk. The window was shuttered, as always– it was rarely open, and although Inez thought it a waste of an incredible view, she found herself unable to _look_ into space, unable to sleep with it… _there_ – present, looming, and abyssal, and– in her dreams– extending its long, freezing fingers to grasp her wrists and pull her, bodily, into the void.  
  
There were shapes in the stars, but all she saw was the blackness in-between.  
  
She really missed her father, sometimes.  
  
Sure, he had been distant– _awkward_ , and distant– but their bond had still been _family_ , deep as bone and strong. Inez had always been closer to their mom, though. drawn to her soft, loving nature; she had been timid, as a child, and firmness was ill-suited to her– Alec had been a disciplinary, and a raised voice alone sufficed to bring her to tears. Dante had been strong, though, so he and their father had forged a stronger bond– nevertheless, even that, through the years, had frayed and twisted to the point of an disquieting unfamiliarity, especially after Ellen had died. Dante had later in life discovered that his true talents lay in tactics and technology, and had gone on to serve with the Alliance as a field engineer.  
  
Her brother had left behind a great deal. His career had been stable and promising, and for years he’d been talking about moving back to their birthplace, in Costa Rica, vowing to take Inez with him.  
  
It’d been a lovely dream, but they had sacrificed it for adventure– well, what they _thought_ would be adventure. Instead, Dante was hooked up to a life support machine, and Inez had been bound to a title far bigger than she could ever hope to be. She was trying her best to fit, to make it seem less like a child wearing a pair of her father’s shoes, but she couldn’t exceed the limits of her own self– and so she hobbled along, in boots seven sizes too large for her, and prayed to the very stars themselves that she would not trip and doom them all.  
  
She needed a cigarette. Or, alternatively, a swift kick to the side of the skull. Either was good.  
  
“Inez,” piped SAM, voice carrying across the empty room. “It is 0600; standardized morning routine is beginning now.”  
  
Generally, she was one of the only ones _actually_ awake at 6AM, which often led to her eating breakfast alone. Cora– she _thought_ – was usually up and at ‘em too, but ate later on with the others, using her earlier hours to train and study. Lexi was always awake early too, but generally stayed in the med-bay until breakfast. Jaal too, but lord knows what he did with his mornings– or if he slept at all. Somehow, she always managed to bump into him during her midnight walks, when she took them.  
  
Did angara have sleep schedules similar to humans, or was he… simply _not sleeping_ ? Perhaps she would ask him.  
  
“Ah. Thanks,” she said, voice muffled by the amassed pile of blankets she was buried under. The Tempest was always so _cold_ , though she supposed that _could_ just have been her. It was as if Heleus space was colder than the Milky Way– and emptier. “Rise and shine, then.”  
  
Dad used to say that, thought Inez. He would come in– when he was around– and shake her and Dante awake, right at the break of dawn, and say, ‘ _Rise and shine_ ’. They always rose, but rarely shone.  
  
There was a joke he always used to tell, too, but she found she couldn’t remember the punchline.  
  
Ah– that stung.  
  
“Doctor T’Perro has requested that you join the crew for breakfast, at 0730,” said SAM, with what sounded deceptively like a chastising tone. “She believes it would assist in levelling out your seratonin imbalance.”      
  
Inez frowned and sat, rubbing the sleep– or lack thereof– from her eyes. “Right. I can do that, I suppose. Who’s up?”  
  
“Lieutenant Harper, Doctor T’Perro, and Jaal, Pathfinder.”  
  
The usual. Inez stood, wrapping blanket around her shoulders before bidding SAM– and her father’s helmet– a bleary ‘good morning’. She didn’t wait for a reply; the AI’s was always the same, a chipper ‘ _good morning, Inez_ ’, and the helmet never responded– _as if it could be expected to_ , thought the Pathfinder, inputting her unlock code. She always locked the door.     
  
It was an old fear, she supposed. The feeling of safety had fled with the loss of her mother– it had been then that Inez had begun locking her door and drawing her shutters. Perhaps, if death thought nobody was home, it wouldn’t come for her.  
  
As if she was _afraid_ of it, these days.  
  
The hall was dimmed, and quiet– uncomfortably so, even, like the Tempest was a ghost ship. Inez didn’t mind; silence suited her. And it was far easier to hide in the dark. Dante had always hated it, and when they were younger and had shared a room, he would make her leave her lamp on through the night. When he had moved into his own, Inez had found that she and the dark got along just fine.  
  
She considered going in to speak to Lexi, but decided against it– she was probably busy, and besides, Inez didn’t make for the best conversation anyways.  
  
It felt ridiculous, really. She was the Pathfinder, and this, _her_ ship– regardless, she felt like a stranger, or an intruder. An outsider. Her brother– she thought– would have done better, in her position. He was good, and true; people followed him, and not just because they _had_ to. Inez was reckless, and had no sense of self preservation. She threw herself into the fray like a demon, and simply hoped for the best– no thought, no plan, just blind abandon.     
  
Her father’s words. They still hurt– the _truth_ of them, that was what stung.  
  
Cora hadn’t come down to the training mat, so Inez decided she’d claim it for the morning. It wasn’t often she was able to train alone, and to do it in front of others was… _uncomfortable_ .  
  
She kind of missed the Alliance gym, in all honesty. It was always open, and in the dark hours of the morning, it was usually empty– save the staff, of course, and occasionally some of the ranking officers. Regardless, it was a big building; there was invariably a reclusive little corner she could use.    
  
_Right cross, left hook, right cross._  
  
_Switch stance. Repeat._  
  
_Jab, cross, hook, cross._    
  
The drills were ingrained into her. Faintly, she recalled Alec standing by her side, showing her how to hold her fists– Dante had never taken to melee combat, preferring to hang back and deploy turrets, picking off singular stragglers with his rifle. He’d been a tactical fighter, which was probably why he’d risen so quickly in the ranks.  
  
Inez was just really, really good at hitting things, really, _really_ hard.  
  
She swung with her foot, and– upon hearing it connect with a loud ‘ _thwap_ ’– used the momentum to switch stances. Alec had instilled in her a debilitating fear of weakness, a fear of _inadequacy_ . She’d been brittle and anxious, as a child– never as tall as her brother, never as strong as her brother, never as smart as her brother. Inez knew, in retrospect, that her father was just trying to prepare her; she never would have survived in the military as she was. Perhaps, she never would’ve survived at all.  
  
Inez had seen her first corpse when she was eleven– a gang member, dead on the streets of San Jos é. He’d had blue eyes, and brown hair.  
  
She still remembered.  
  
Her first connected hard with the bag, and a thrum of pain shot up her arm. Inez ignored it. She was good at that – ignoring pain.  
  
“Ryder.”  
  
She stilled mid-strike, twisting her head to frown at Jaal; she hadn’t heard him enter. He was dressed in his underarmor, but had, for some reason, forgone the poncho– the _rofjiin_ , if she recalled correctly. It was odd, she thought, to see cultural things akin to ponchos– which were an integral part of Inez’s own culture– across galaxies. She’d brought hers from the Milky Way; it was a heavy, colourful thing that she had worn to the Fiesta de los Diablitos every year, in Boruca.  
  
Alec had been born there.  
  
“Morning, Jaal. You’re up early.”  
  
Inez brought her elbow across the bag in a sharp, quick strike, following it with a cross. The angara regarded her curiously, tracking the movement of her hands with a scrutinizing gaze– it was disquieting, in a burning kind of way.  
  
His only response was an unattentive, non-committal sort of noise, and Inez turned to regard him with a tilt of the head. Jaal cleared his throat and shifted, almost a little uncomfortably, and nodded towards the bag.  
  
“You hit differently to Cora.”  
  
Inez cocked a brow, and settled into a hip. “Yeah, she was trained as an asari would be. I was taught to fight by my father– relies on different techniques.”  
  
He tilted his head, and looked between her and the bag with poorly masked curiosity. The Pathfinder sighed and turned back, beckoning him with a wave of the hand before dropping into the offensive stance, shifting on the balls of her feet. Jaal stood a few meters back, watching with rapt attention.  
  
Inez wasn’t entirely certain whether or not he and her could be considered friends, but their relationship had improved since their strained interactions post first-contact. She could entirely understand why he hadn’t trusted the Initiative, and by extension, her– hell, Inez was a Pathfinder, and _she_ didn’t trust the Initiative. She respected many of its members, but knew also that some wished not for them to simply settle, but for them to _conquer_ . She wouldn’t stand for that.  
  
“Well, for one,” began Inez, dropping her stance a little lower– Jaal’s eyes traced down her form, scrutinizing, “the offensive stance, for most human combat style, accommodates for a higher centre of gravity. It was initially designed for human males, and the asari style is catered to a _lower_ centre of gravity, so generally, it’s better suited for human females. We have similar anatomical structure.”  
  
Inez had been taught commando unit drills during her time with the Alliance, being a biotic– she preferred the ones her father had taught her out of habit and practice, but could get a harder kick out of the asari, and it better accommodated for the usage of melee biotic attacks. Cora had a far smoother transition speed than Inez.  
  
“You share the same abilities as Cora, no? Then why do you not use the same stance?”  
  
She shrugged, and jabbed the bag absentmindedly. “It’s slower. The kind I was taught is high-impact, and fast– the asari pace themselves differently. They incorporate biotics into their melee in a more natural way than we do; it flows through them, per se, and into every strike. Theirs _comes_ naturally, though– human biotics are exposed to eezo in the womb, and if they develop an affinity, they’re given an implant. It’s easier for us to charge a single blow, but it’s exhausting to maintain. Cora possesses a great amount of precision and control; substantially more than average.”  
  
_Substantially more than me_ , was the intonation behind her words. This kind of conversation, Inez could do– it was technical, and required no thought or ponderance on her part. It was simply reciting what she had been told and taught over the years, devoid of any personal opinion. It made it easier.  
  
Jaal nodded in interest, seeming to understand. “It sounds as though asari possess more patience.”  
  
“Absolutely correct,” said Inez, as though it were simply fact– as if it _wasn’t_ . She nearly cracked a smirk. “Maybe it’s the longer lifespan.”  
  
It was almost a joke– _almost_ .  
  
“Asari can live for a thousand years, sometimes longer– and age is an integral part of their social hierarchy. Their elders are called matriarchs, and they’re not often seen outside of asari space. I’ve only ever met one.”  
  
“And humans?”  
  
Inez shrugged. “Up to a hundred and fifty, generally. I haven’t heard of anyone living much beyond a hundred and sixty.”  
  
He looked pensive, regarding the floor with an intense concentration as he mulled that over– his eyes darted in an odd sort of way when he thought hard, Inez had noticed. It was an oddly… _human_ trait.     
  
Suddenly, his gaze shifted up to her. “Would you like to fight?”  
  
_That_ took her aback– did he mean to _spar_ ? Generally, Inez only did that with Cora, sometimes Peebee. She wasn’t sure how it would work with Jaal– he was strong, fast, and he had reach. And he looked solid; hard to topple.  
  
She had to think about it for a moment. Even with her more compatible crew members, she tended not to make a habit of it– it reminded her a little too much of her Alliance days, and– by extension– Dante and her father. Ellen had never fought with them, nor encouraged violence of any kind. She had been a kind, gentle woman, and Inez couldn’t recall her angry. She had overseen Inez’s earlier biotic training, though; she had been determined for– in the absence of eezo nodes in her son– her daughter to thrive.    
  
Also, it made her anxious– god knew why. But in circling a person you knew well was a kind of fear that didn’t exist in ordinary fights. Or perhaps that was just her.  
  
“Yeah, okay,” said Inez, if a little hesitantly. She moved to withdraw her hand-wraps from the foot locker between the mat and the hull wall, winding the fabric around her knuckles with a practiced ease. Jaal watched the movements carefully. “Angaran ground rules the same? Safe zones– so, no face, no reproductive organs.”  
  
It sounded uncomfortable and clinical, but a measure of what Inez said _was_ , so she elected to ignore it. She gestured to the breastband of her shirt, and then to her pelvis. “Off limits.”  
  
Jaal nodded, and did the same to his own lower region. “Likewise.”  
  
_Well, good to know we’re on the same page_ .  
  
Inez dropped into the offensive stance, sizing him up– Jaal was big and looming, but like anyone, he had to have structural weaknesses. She’d have to avoid his punches; that seemed to her where most of his power would lay. Inez was a great deal shorter than him, so ducking his strikes would be easier, but he still possessed reach, and his legs looked strong; similar to a turian’s or quarian’s in structure, which meant speed, but assumedly, like a quarian, limited mobility in close quarters.  
  
They circled one another for a long moment, eyes sketching each other’s forms and stances, before Inez spoke. “What about angaran combat?”  
  
Jaal’s eyes narrowed– just a bit– and he tilted his head. “Angaran combat has a primarily upper body orientation. The majority of our strength exists in our arms, and shoulders– I am no expert in biology, though, so I’m not sure of the technicalities. We have no thing like ‘ _biotics_ ’, but bioelectricity we can direct if we choose. So, full impact strikes, generally speaking.”  
  
Inez nodded. “To accommodate for an electrical charge, yeah, that makes sense.”        
  
That seemed to please him, for some reason. She shot forward an experimental kick to the side of his thigh, shifting to edge backwards after the strike connected– Jaal’s reaction time was quick, and his hand shot down to catch her leg, but a _second_ after it had withdrawn. The muscle there had been solid, and Inez couldn’t imagine a strike there doing any real hobbling damage– if only she could get _behind_ him.  
  
His brow shot up, and he inched forwards. “You’re quick.”  
  
“You too,” said Inez, allowing herself a small smile.    
  
Jaal pitched a cross strike, which clipped her shoulder as she dropped down to avoid it; an indirect hit, but she could still feel the power behind it, and had to consciously withhold from erecting a barrier out of instinct. He _was_ quick, but faster to strike than to dodge, it seemed– interesting.  
  
With a sort of renewed confidence, he stepped forwards to land a torso strike, but Inez dropped beneath his fist and twisted, kicking out a leg to strike him behind the hinge of his leg. It buckled forwards, and she slid back to put some distance between her legs and his arms, before handing a flat-palmed strike to the small of his back. Jaal twisted on his knee to drive an elbow between her ribs, setting his hand down heavily between her shoulderblades when she pitched forwards, pinning her chest to the ground.  
  
Inez wondered if angara were less mobile than humans from the chest down, because he seemed surprised when her leg swung up behind her to catch him on the back with the heel of her foot. She twisted out of his grip, rolling away and rising to crouch, watching to see what Jaal would try next. Being caught against the floor by an angara didn’t seem ideal– perhaps they lacked the flexibility, but sheer size and strength could just as easily pin one down.  
  
Her suspicions were confirmed, as Jaal did just that. He shot forwards, covering the small distance in seconds, and using his forearms to cage her chest. Ah– he was closer than she thought he was, face hovering a couple inches above hers, radiating heat.

Between a rock and a hard place, it seemed.

Jaal's eyes, Inez noticed, were _very_ blue. Planetary, almost– reminiscent of someplace like Aya, or perhaps Havarl. _Yeah_ , she thought. _Definitely Havarl_ .  
  
It was almost strange, like planets in retrograde– her mother had called Inez a ‘ _Mars baby_ ’, with brown skin and sandy, rich eyes.  
  
Suddenly, she realised she couldn’t breathe; for a moment, she had the startling notion that perhaps, it was the vacuum of his gaze, but no– it was the angaran forearm pressing down on her throat. Chokeholds, apparently, were _universal_ .  
  
Inez tapped his arm, and he withdrew, settling onto his haunches above her with a smile. She felt her cheeks burning, and stuttered out an odd-sounding, strangled breath when Jaal leaned forwards to press a cool palm against the side of her face, brows knitting.  
  
“Your skin is very warm, and you are pink,” he observed, looking at her with something like concern. “Are you well? I did not restrict your breathing to the extent of injury, did I?”  
  
She gulped, but managed to retain a schooled, clinical tone. “No, no. If we can’t breathe, we turn purple; lack of oxygen restricts circulation. It’s when blood rushes to a certain place– so, in humans, it’s generally the face– that we flush, and our skin turns hot. And _we_ turn red. It can be a lot of things, really– physical exertion, embarrassment, arousal.”    
  
The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and Jaal regarded her bemusedly. “And which are you?”  
  
The bastard was _flirting_ with her.  
  
“There are ways of finding out.”  
  
Ah– she was flirting back.  
  
He extracted himself from atop her, and made off with a jovial ‘good morning!’ and decidedly belated wave, leaving Inez sitting on the combat mat with folded arms and a measure of inner conflict.  
  
_Where had that come from_ ?  
  
She shrugged and picked herself up, brushing off her fatigues and unwrapping her hands. The flaming of her cheeks had settled into a subtle warmth, a pink tinge that one might miss, if they were not looking too closely. There remained an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, though, bothering her when she took the time to notice it.  
  
‘ _And which are you?_ ’  
  
Truly? She had no clue. Must have been the _bioelectricity_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please, feel free to leave any criticism, compliments, etc!! I love hearing from you guys <3 
> 
> also, if you've got any questions about inez or dante, shoot em here or at srydcr.tumblr.com!


	2. it grows warm in a way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaal asks, and inez divulges; a little curiosity never hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!  
> i'm in the process of moving house, so updates on this fic and my others will probably be a little more sporatic in the coming weeks, but i'll try to keep em coming!  
> i've messed around with jaal's pov in this one, i hope it reads okay! potential tw for suicide, although it isn't explicitly referred to– just to be on the safe side
> 
> please enjoy <3

Nobody seemed to _know_ her.  
  
Sure– people knew things _about_ her, like how she had a ‘thing’ with manners, and how she spoke a different native language to the other humans aboard, and how she had a ‘ _sympathetic gag reflex_ ’, whatever _that_ meant. Jaal thought it sounded unpleasant, and was confused by how Cora had thwacked Liam’s arm when he’d mentioned it– humans were odd.   
  
He didn’t even know her _name_. Jaal knew that Ryder was her surname, and Pathfinder, her title, yet no one aboard the Tempest appeared to know her given name– or, perhaps, they simply didn’t want to share it. It seemed an awfully peculiar thing to withhold, to him; it was the family name that held the significance, no?       
  
Regardless, the Pathfinder went only by ‘Ryder’, and derailed any attempts at further inquiry.   
  
Jaal knew very little about her, really, but that seemed to be typical, so he took no offense.  
  
“Don’t think Ryder likes to talk,” Liam had told him, once, with a sympathetic look. He and the Pathfinder seemed quite close.  “Prefers to keep things inside, you know?”   
  
He didn’t, but agreed to leave it at that. Humans in general were very– well– _alien_ , to him; they were less emotionally synchronised than the angara, who tended to process things in a– _at the very least_ – somewhat similar fashion. But humans were strange, and unique; Liam was open and idealistic, and Cora was professional; collected, and firm. And Ryder, she was just– _nothing_. A lack thereof, per se.   
  
Jaal found her pleasant, nevertheless, though unyielding. A directed, indomitable force in and out of combat.     
  
He had seen the most of her when they had sparred. They had spoken amiably– even _flirted_ , if only a little– though it had been more of an ‘ _explanation, listen_ ’ type conversation– Jaal wasn’t entirely opposed to that, if he were honest. He’d learned; about her, Cora, how she fought, their origin. He’d noticed before that despite both possessing similar power– _biotics_ , Ryder had referred to it as– they harnessed it in different manners. As Ryder had said, Cora was slower, and more thoughtful, and the Pathfinder herself was… more akin to an _automatic_ weapon, if he were to draw comparisons.   
  
And she was _reckless_. It put Jaal’s teeth on edge, how she would simply charge, thoughtless, into the fray. Her barriers weren’t _that_ strong, and despite their reinforcement, she rarely left a confrontation unscathed.   
  
It was as if she had a death wish.   
  
Or as if she simply didn’t care– didn’t _fear_ it.          
  
Or, perhaps, he was reading too far into it, and that was just how she fought. Regardless, it had sent her straight to the medbay on return from her traipse around Kadara. She didn’t _look_ wounded, for the most part– there was bruising around her face and chest, but even in her soft suit, Jaal couldn’t see any lacerations. Nor any blood, save a smear beneath her mouth. He didn’t recall seeing anyone bleed from _there_.   
  
Ryder regarded him with a blank look, rolling her shoulder back and forth. There were shadows beneath her eyes, deep and purple, and a mottled bruise spanned the left side of her head, from temple to jaw.   
  
Jaal thought she had peculiar eyes. They _should_ have been warm– they were the colour of Elaaden, like sun-baked sand dunes– but instead, there was an odd kind of _coldness_ in them, a stony resolve. Ryder’s gaze felt heavier than it should have.   
  
“Blunt force trauma,” Lexi began, incredulos, tapping on her datapad as she turned away from her desk to face them. “Internal bleeding. Rib fractures, a collarbone fracture, damage to the left shoulder– you narrowly avoided hemorrhaging, and organ displacement. Were you administered medi-gel?”   
  
The doctor’s tone was reprimanding, and she regarded Ryder with a look of disdain, adding, in a softer voice, “I told you to be _careful_.”   
  
Jaal could feel the tension in the room, and wondered if he should leave– why was he here in the first place? He thought it was to check in with the Pathfinder, but couldn’t quite remember. He’d been preoccupying himself in the crew quarters, just across the hall– the unrest had been palpable, even from there, and now he understood why. As ill-phrased in human anatomy as he was, Jaal still knew that internal bleeding was _bad_.       
  
Ryder shifted, wincing, and shot Lexi what looked almost like an apologetic look. The asari moved closer, ghosting her fingers over the Pathfinder’s throat to press into the flesh beneath her jaw, moving to hold open her mouth– checking her teeth, presumably– and prod the length of her nose. The human rolled her eyes and reached up to clasp her shoulder; an assurance, Jaal assumed.   
  
He wondered distantly if there was something between them. Lexi seemed, out of everyone, closest to Ryder. More often than not, if she couldn’t be found in her quarters, on the bridge, or training down by the mat, she was in the med-bay, talking to their doctor. There were a lot of exchanged looks, as well.   
  
_That_ sent an odd feeling to Jaal’s stomach, so it remained a thought he elected to ignore.   
  
“I got slammed,” admitted Ryder as Lexi administered the odd salve, wringing her hands together. Her tone bordered on shame. “My barriers were down, and a biotic took me off guard.”   
  
The asari’s brows knitted, and she folded her arms. “We need Cora to teach you barrier maintenance. Or get you some shield actuators. And we need to discuss your _recklessnes_ s.”   
  
Jaal cleared his throat, and Ryder whipped around, wincing. Lexi stilled her with a firm hand on the shoulder, and nodded to him, withdrawing. “In the meantime, I need to run this by SAM. Try not to move too much– the medi-gel is still taking action.”    
  
She smiled at him as she passed, leaving him and Ryder alone, and in an odd kind of silence– one he couldn’t quite place, but that seemed… _cold_.    
  
_Does Lexi know her real name?_  
  
“Ryder,” began Jaal, not entirely sure where to go from there. “Lexi mentioned shield actuators, no? Perhaps I can do something for you– I am somewhat versed in shield tech.”    
  
The Pathfinder’s brow lifted, and she regarded him with something _almost_ like suspicion. It occurred to him that he didn’t think he’d ever seen a complete expression grace her features– just halfs. A half smile, a half narrow of the eyes, a half grimace.   
  
“That’s kind of you, Jaal; thank you. But it’ll be fine.”   
  
Another silence, this time less uncomfortable.   
  
“How do biotic barriers work?”   
  
The question left him before he could truly think about it– blind curiosity. It was such a _foreign_ concept to him, biotics; the closest the angara had was their bioelectricity, but that was natural– simply a part of their anatomy. Ryder had told him that it was that way for asari, but not humans. Some kind of _implant_ – he’d heard it mentioned more than once, their ‘ _L5_ ’.    
  
Ryder gave him an odd look– one Jaal didn’t quite recognise– but explained regardless. “Well, biotics is effectively the manipulation and creation of mass effect fields. Barriers are… well, it’s when a biotic surrounds themselves with a protective field. Barriers can be stronger than shields, but it all depends on the user– biotics vary in skill, and control. For example, Cora’s barriers are a lot stronger than mine, but mine are stronger than Peebee’s.”   
  
He nodded along, sort of understanding. Jaal had noticed that explanation seemed to come a great deal easier to her than other sorts of conversation.   
  
“But should Peebee not be the strongest? She is asari.”   
  
Ryder shook her head. “Not necessarily. Peebee’s most formidable when it comes to offensive biotics, and tech combinations. She tends to– uh– _release_ , whereas a strong barrier requires the biotic to _retain_.”     
  
He found that interesting. She’d clearly not undergone the same asari training as Cora, then– he wondered if _Lexi_ was biotic.   
  
Cora and Ryder were soldiers, though, and Peebee was _not_. Jaal supposed their methods weren’t comparable.   
  
“How does it… _work_?”   
  
“What, biotics?” Ryder asked, eyebrow cocking. Jaal nodded.   
  
The Pathfinder folded her hands in her lap, and– eyes cast up at the ceiling, as if trying to conjure words from her memory– began, tone very much like a _repetition_ ; as if she was simply reeling off words she had been shown and told. _Textbook._   
  
“Well, for humans, it begins in the womb. The mother’s exposed to eezo– or element zero, in dust form– and in some cases, the baby can develop eezo nodules through their nervous systems. Other times, though, they can develop mutations, brain tumors, other physical complications. Generally, though, there’s no effect. Only about one in ten– _if_ I remember correctly– actually develop abilities that merit training, and sometimes, the abilities aren’t even permanent. And– _uh_ – pretty much, the nodules, right, they can generate mass effect fields, if they’re triggered by the electrical impulses sent by the brain.”          
  
Jaal nodded, taking a seat opposite to where she sat on the med-bay bed. “Are there other biotic species?”   
  
Ryder nodded. “Plenty. Batarians, drell, some salarians and turians, volus, vorcha. Even some krogan, though not many, these days.”   
  
He committed the names to memory– perhaps, next time they were at the Nexus, he would search them up. The only names he recognised from the list were ‘ _salarians, turians_ , and _krogan_ ’.   
  
“Fascinating. And, you mentioned to… _retain_ , and _release_?”   
  
She shifted, almost a little uncomfortably. “Ah– yes. There are different kinds of biotics, yeah? Referring to the users, and the abilities themselves. Some people are more attuned to the retaining aspect, so… barrier-making, kinetic fields, etcetera. That’s Cora. But, some people have an affinity to the ‘ _release_ ’, or expulsion aspect. Peebee falls under the ‘telekinesis’ category, and I, under ‘spacial distortion’.”   
  
Jaal had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but nodded along regardless. For someone so– franky– _inept_ regarding socialisation, Ryder was startlingly technical in her language. It could make her seem… _robotic_ , at times, and he had heard jokes amongst the crew that she and SAM had similar conversation patterns. It made her difficult to understand at times, as well, but that was to be expected– even with their translators, there existed language barriers. Or, well; _translation_ barriers.    
  
Oho; _barriers_. That was a joke.   
  
“ _Spacial distortion_ ,” he repeated, the words familiar separately, but foreign as a phrase. “Interesting– what does…”   
  
Ryder fidgeted. It seemed to be a somewhat uncomfortable topic. “Spacial distortion. It– generally pertains to the creation of shifting fields, which– uh– _tear apart_ anything caught inside.”        
  
_Anything_ , thought Jaal, _or anyone_.   
  
Devastating, if deployed correctly. He had seen it first hand.     
  
“I see,” he said, slowly; _cautiously_. “Like an… energy storm, almost?”    
  
She nodded, and he tilted his head, puzzled. Something as wild and unchecked as that seemed– in all honesty– better suited to someone like Peebee. Ryder was schooled, logical, professional–   
  
–and _reckless_. And dangerous. Not… unlike a whirlwind, now that it occurred to him.   
  
Perhaps it was not so ill-suited, after all.   
  
“Is it tradition? Does it run in families?”   
  
Ryder’s eyes narrowed instantly, and the air shifted. Regardless, after a moment of silence, she spoke. “In mine, yes.”   
  
And that was all the explanation she offered, trailing out into another, tenser quiet, until she shifted somewhat uncomfortably and regarded him with a heavy gaze. Well– all of her gazes her heavy, but this one in particular grounded him, kept him present.   
  
Her eyes were, upon closer inspection, actually quite lovely. There were flecks of a darker, richer colour around her pupil, and a ring around the coloured part– the _iris_ , if he remembered correctly.      
  
“My mother, she– uh,” began Ryder, with a stutter Jaal thought uncharacteristic. Then he thought better of it– a personal topic. Perhaps there was a reason she avoided them. “She was responsible for creating the first human biotic implants, and she continued to develop them until– well, for a long time. She oversaw my early training, actually.”   
  
There was a terrible sadness shadowing her features– one that had his heart dropping. “Your mother, she is…?”   
  
“Dead. Yeah.”   
  
It was his turn to shift uncomfortably, unsure of which consolation he could give. Generally, his instinct would be to hug, but Ryder was sharp, and he hadn’t seen her initiate any _non-violent_ contact beyond a clasp of the shoulder, or a pat of the arm. Jaal didn’t suspect she was the embracing type, and boundaries came before instinct.        
  
“I am sorry, Ryder.”   
  
She shrugged– a half-hearted jolt of a shoulder– and spared him a very, very small smile. It was the best he had gotten since their morning spar, weeks ago. In fact, they had hardly interacted since; he hadn’t taken it personally, because she had been that way with everyone.   
  
“I– thank you. It’s in the past. It’s done.”   
  
Had Ryder lost _both_ of her parents? Jaal had heard of a deceased ‘Alec Ryder’, the Pathfinder before her, and– assumedly– her father. Cora, apparently, had idolized him; did that not strain their relationship? Or was Ryder _like_ her father?    
  
“You–” she began, voice smaller than he was used to. He looked up to meet her eye, but found her gaze averted. “You don’t have to call me Ryder. It gets odd, sometimes. It’s what people called my parents; _both_ of them.”     
  
“Would you prefer Pathfinder?”   
  
Something in her appeared to _flinch_ at that, though perhaps not visibly.   
  
“I’d prefer Inez, if you’d like.”  
  
_Inez_ – so _that_ was her name. It was pretty, but not in the way he had expected. Jaal thought it would be a strong, _hard_ name, but at a longer glance, he decided that ‘Inez’ suited her just fine.   
  
He remembered that she came from a different place to the rest of the human crew– she was…   
  
_Hippopotamus_?   
  
No, that was a creature. Liam had referred to her as something–  
  
Ah! _Hispanic_.   
  
Jaal wondered what her name meant, in her language; human names, he had discovered, held a different kind of significance to angaran names. They meant things, like phrases, and words; ‘Liam’, he had discovered, meant ‘strong willed warrior and protector’. Jaal had accused him of naming _himself_ out of vanity, but apparently, he had simply grown into it.   
  
He left the med-bay when Lexi returned, a plethora of salves and miscellaneous _things_ in hand, muttering beneath her breath about bones. And Inez had _laughed_ – laughed, a small, weak sound, but a _laugh_ nonetheless– and it had warmed him up in a way he wasn’t sure he liked as he made his way down the hall.      
  
_Inez_ , he discovered, later, meant ‘chaste, and pure’.   
  
Jaal wasn’t sure what to think of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!  
> as always, I love you guys x  
> please, if you enjoyed, if you didn't, etc, please leave a comment! I love reading feedback, and you've all been absolutely lovely so far <3


	3. my feet won’t let me run away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'inez didn’t like to touch. never had, in truth. but she was cold, and faint, and he felt solid and warm, so she decided she didn’t _quite_ mind.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!  
> i'm glad i was able to pump this chapter out today, because i don't think I'll get to writing one tomorrow  
> that being said!!  
> jaal and inez are on their way to Something, and the urge to write fluff in the next chapter is great. 
> 
> there's a bit of angst in this one, so a potential tw for the usual!! fatalistic thoughts, discussion of mental illness, etc

She was always cold.  
  
Lexi constantly monitored her, measuring her vitals, blood pressure, blood sugar– all ordinary. She’d upped Inez’s daily calorie and sugar rations, but neither seemed to have any effect. Her metabolism had sped up, and with each passing night, sleep evaded her; she grew drowsier as the days went on, shivered more, made less lucid decisions.  
  
_Stress_ , Lexi had said. Stress, insomnia, and trauma– Inez hadn’t known such things could have such an adverse physical effect.  
  
“Stress interferes with body temperature regulation,” she’d told her, datapad in hand; no doubt taking notes. “Changes of temperature in hands and feet are a reflection of blood flow– a measure of the stress response, to to speak.”         
  
‘ _A cold body_ ,’ Inez had read, ‘ _is a sign of degradation and gradual cellular death._ ’  
  
She decided, upon first arrival, that she hated Voeld.  
  
And upon her third, she found that nothing had changed. Even through her hardsuit, she could feel the chill seeping in, weighing down her already heavy bones like lead, and the chatter of her teeth grew sharper, more audible with every step. Exhaustion reached for her from behind, grabbing and her ankles and shoulders with its long, gnarled fingers– Lexi would _kill_ her if she returned with hypothermia; _again_ . Had to stay warm, _had to stay warm_ .  
  
“Pathfinder,” said SAM, through their private channel. “Temperature is at -40 °C . I advise caution– non-lethal stages of hypothermia are beginning to set in your system. Your core body temperature is 36.3 °C.”  
  
Inez shivered, and – unconsciously– drew a little closer to Vetra; her teeth were chattering too. Voeld– designated Habitat 6– was thought to be a lush garden world, with wide, expansive oceans. Instead, it was a planet entombed in ice, and plagued by blizzards; she had no idea how the Resistance had managed to survive here, nor the kett. Inez wondered if angara were less susceptible to the cold.  
  
Perhaps that was it; Jaal seemed significantly less bothered than she and Vetra.  
  
After their first landing, Liam had requested he never be brought to Voeld again– a request Inez honored. The horror of this place ran deeper than the ice, than the bodies that always seemed to litter the snow. It used to be beautiful, and prospering, and _alive_ , but now, it was a wasteland. An icy tomb.  
  
Huh– that reminded her of something a little too close to home.  
  
The Resistance been helpful, and unexpectedly hospitable– admittedly, a measure of that had come after she’d cleared the labor camp, and freed the captured angara. Regardless, no amount of their assistance had made the trek down into the valley any easier– always, the journey down was a accompanied by a small yet insistent, hushed whisper of, “ _If the life support cuts out, you’ll die._ ”     
  
_Might toe the line regardless_ , she thought, trying to massage some of the numbness from her hands.  
  
The Nomad had become familiar to her, almost like an extension of her own self– admittedly, the sands of Eos were a great deal easier to drive across than _ice_ , but she made do with minimal slides. The air inside was warmer, and after a few shivering, chilly minutes, Inez adjusted to the change in temperature, and began to thaw. Her fingers– clamped around the steering wheel– were painfully tingling, but the sensation and control had returned enough for her to actually grasp it, her eyes drooped less.  
  
It was still below freezing, but… _manageable_ . The Nomad had shields, and its own life support system– once that depleted, though, they were on their own. The thought sent a small stab of anxiety to her stomach: she wouldn’t last ten minutes out there, unsheltered completely from the harsh, bone-deep chill.     
  
And with that thought, the shivering returned.  
  
The monoliths on Voeld were all fairly close, no doubt a triangle centered by its vault. Inez suspected there were parts of this place that were gone, though; parts that could never be revived.  
  
Or perhaps she simply just needed to stop drawing comparisons.    
  
Ouch– that hurt.  
  
“Ryder,” said Vetra, snapping Inez from her reverie with a jolt. The Nomad made a sharp turn around a corner, narrowly avoiding clipping the edge of a jutting rock. “You okay?”  
  
She chewed her lip for a moment, but nodded– Inez loved and trusted Vetra, in the same respect she loved Lexi; there was respect there, and the turian’s own kind of silent yet unyielding support. But some thoughts– some moods– remained… _hers_ . Not out of choice, but _necessity_ ; she was the Pathfinder– there had to be _hope_ there, not fatalistic doubt. Besides, it wasn’t in her nature; it felt too much like revealing her cards, like _weakness_ .      
  
The silence was telling, though, so she spoke in faux-reassurance. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Nyx.”  
  
Vetra’s mandibles flared in the equivalent of a smile, but there remained doubt in her eyes. It was founded, but Inez would never admit as such– not to her, perhaps not even to Lexi.  
  
She was fine– _great_ , even. Just cold. Just tired.  
  
How long had she been palming off those excuses?  
  
The monolith rose before them, large and looming and _beautiful_ , it its own kind of alien manner. Ice rose in gnarled vines from its base, and a large cave opened up beneath, the icicles hanging from its mouth reminiscent of teeth– that, Inez wagered, was where the console lay. The Nomad skidded to a halt near the entrance, overshooting because of the snow’s lack of traction– inside, the three jolted forwards, and the Pathfinder heard Jaal’s muttered curse, following the heavy thud of his head against the back of her seat. It nearly made her smile.  
  
The doors opened with a hiss, and Inez froze– that was _cold_ . Colder than before, surely. The monolith regulated temperature in the immediate vicinity, but further out, where they had skidded to a stop, the air felt solid, and heavy. She wrapped her arms around herself, and slid from the vehicle– and shin-deep into snow.    
  
How was Jaal walking atop it? He was _heavier_ than her, dammit.  
  
It took her longer than she would’ve liked to reach the mouth of the cave, and she watched her life support gage ticking down steadily; Inez remained vigilant for the signs Lexi had told her– firmly– to look for; apathy, drowsiness, a lack of coordination, slurred speech, shallow breathing. Symptoms of hypothermia.  
  
“Pathfinder, your core body temperature has reached 36.5 °C. It is within an acceptable zone,” said SAM, as she stumbled through the snow, into the entrance of the ice cave. “Environmental conditions are stable.”  
  
They made their way down to the open cavern, centered by the remnant console. Nothing stirred. Inez’s eyes narrowed, but she pulled up her scanner regardless, and traced the conduits running from the console to the glyphs, gesturing for Jaal and Vetra to take point.  
  
It took a whole of ten minutes to find and scan all three glyphs, all in a silence she found _terribly_ suspicious. Usually, there were at _least_ assemblers guarding monoliths – generally observers, too, and on the occasion, breachers. Inez had only ever seen nullifiers in vaults. Jaal and Vetra seemed to peg that something was amiss, also, as the former seemed a deal _jumpier_ than usual, walking in circles around the console with his rifle in hand, sending quick, regular looks to her position, to make sure all was well.  
  
“It’s too quiet,” said Inez, jumping down from a ledge on which she’d been scanning. She landed with a light thud, her jump-jet dampening the fall. “I haven’t seen any dissembled tech, nor anything that suggests a confrontation. I don’t trust this.”  
  
Jaal nodded, with a step towards her. “I agree. It’s as if there is no activity at all, besides us.”  
  
She drew her lip between her teeth, turning to look at the console– it didn’t look as if anything was amiss, or tampered with. If there was any malicious hardware, surely Vetra would’ve found it.  
  
“Haven’t been able to pick anything up,” said the turian, as if on cue. “No abnormal signals, _nothing_ . It’s weird.”  
  
Inez nodded, but stepped towards the console anyway. Her hand ran over the outer edges, feeling for anything out of the ordinary, and then, slightly aquiver, raised to interface.  
  
She could hear Jaal’s voice behind her, quiet, and warning. “Be _careful_ , Inez.”     

  
And careful she was – the monolith activated with neither incident nor difficulty, and she pulled back with a confused look; no, surely, it couldn’t have been that easy. _Nothing_ was that easy, not in the Milky Way, not in Heleus. A tentative silence fell, each party listening for any hostile activity, _anything_ .  
  
Nothing.  
  
“I… guess it’s all–”  
  
A loud, mechanical crack proved them wrong, and a sharp beam of energy tore through her shoulder before Inez could raise her barrier. She pitched forwards, a shifting field shooting from her– one she had meant to retain, to bring around her as a barrier, but that she released in a whorling wave of dark energy. An assembler and the observer that had struck her were caught, and the assembler– devoid of shields, as they were– was bodily ripped to pieces. It succeeded in destroying the observer’s shields, so a few shots from Jaal’s rifle took it down.      
  
It had _burned_ . Scalding and scarlet, tearing a rent through her hardsuit and striking the flesh beneath. It hadn’t gone too deep– Inez could still rotate her arm, though the movement was painful. She was more concerned about the hole it had fired in her environment suit.  
  
Have to stay warm. _Have to stay warm_ .  
  
Even in the controlled environment of the monolith, the air upon her skin was so cold it burned. -30 °C. Her hand clamped over the rift, and thankfully, there was no blood – however deep the strike had cut, it had cauterized the wound on impact.  
  
She had a _thing_ with blood.  
  
The gunfire ceased, and immediately, two strong, thin arms were wrapping around her waist to hoist her up, talons digging into the material of her suit. Vetra’s eyes skimmed over her quickly, looking for more breaches in her hardsuit. Inez waved her off with a reassuring smile, and straightened to stand unaided– a brief flash of vertigo had her nearly stumbling, but she overcame it with a firm hand on the turian’s forearm.  
  
“I’m okay,” said Inez, words less clear than she would have liked them to be. “It was a shallow strike.”  
  
“It cracked your suit,” said Vetra, reprimanding. Jaal was silent, but regarding her with an odd, heavy look from where he stood, unmoving.  
  
His gaze made her skin itch, so she averted hers. “I should be able to make it to the other monoliths. SAM is monitoring my vitals.”            
  
“Lexi told you to be careful– we need to go back to the Tempest.”  
  
“Pathfinder,” piped SAM, “your core temperature has dropped to 36.1 °C. I would recommend you return to the Nomad, and request immediate extraction.”  
  
Inez’s shoulder burned, and logic won out against pride. She nodded, and began to walk towards the path leading up to the mouth of the cave, feet dragging against the floor in a decidedly uncharacteristic manner. The Nomad – she could _do_ that. But, her legs would sink in the snow, and the walk between had been treacherously cold, even with her suit intact. It occurred to her that she didn’t actually know the extent of the crack– only that she was a great deal colder than she had been before, and that all those symptoms Lexi had listed were becoming disquietingly present.  
  
On second thought, perhaps she _wouldn’t_ make it to the Nomad. Perhaps she would fall, and the snow would eat her, or perhaps she would _freeze_ , or perhaps–  
  
Suddenly, something heavy, soft, and warm settled over her shoulders, making the wound sting, but expelling some of the cold. Inez turned, and met the eyes of Jaal, who stood behind her, missing his rofjiin. Ah– _that_ was what lay draped across her shoulders, hanging oddly from her human frame, and swinging down by her knees; _he_ , she thought, distantly, _is a lot bigger than I am_ .  
  
An odd feeling formed in her stomach, and she unconsciously reached up to draw the fabric closer around herself. It felt almost like silk, but heavier, and denser– it had very little elasticity, but flowed around her, and smelled startlingly of _him_ .  
  
“Your lips are turning purple,” he said, concernedly. A hand came up to smooth the material around her shoulders. “If I remember correctly, you said that human skin turns purple when it doesn’t receive enough blood, yes? Or, when the circulation or oxygen is restricted? Is that not a symptom of ‘hypothermia’?”  
  
He said it in an odd, yet endearing way– _he-poe-therm-ya_ . An unfamiliar word, perhaps one he had only read... or been _told_ .  
  
“You’ve been talking to Lexi.”  
  
It wasn’t an accusation– simply an observation. Jaal nodded, and gestured back to where Vetra was making her way up the slope, after collecting what she could from the site.  
  
“She approached us before we landed, and told us we had to remain vigilant. If I did not know, I would have wanted to press on– I am grateful.”  
  
Inez didn’t know what to say to that, so she simply cast her eyes to the ground, and drew the rofjiin around herself– Jaal was broader than her, too, so the material nearly fit around her twice over. He cast a small smile down at the sight, and tucked the fabric up around her neck in a makeshift collar.  
  
When Vetra had caught up, the three stepped out from the cave, and into the blizzard. The Pathfinder would have fallen to the ground if not for Jaal, who steadied her with a strong arm around the waist, and hoisted her up with his other underneath her knees. Faintly, she felt a sharp pang of discomfort at the contact– Inez didn’t like to _touch_ . Never had, in truth. But she was cold, and faint, and he felt solid and warm, so she decided she didn’t _quite_ mind.           
  
Vetra said something she didn’t catch, but that made Jaal laugh– his chest rumbled against her, vibrating and stuttering in a way that felt peculiar, but not entirely unpleasant.  
  
Her mind was foggy– thoughts weren’t quite stringing together, mostly hanging as single words. _Nice. Booming. Cold. Warm_ . _Solid. Big._  
  
“Stay with us, Ryder,” said Vetra, placing a hand on her forehead. Oh– they were in the Nomad now. _Cool_ . “How’re you feeling?”  
  
Jaal’s thighs were firm beneath her head, and his own hand pressed over the crack in her suit. The Nomad was warmer, more tolerable– she couldn’t feel the searing cold as much as an uncomfortable chill. It was still _terribly_ unpleasant, but she could deal; besides, they were both emanating warmth– Jaal was _always_ warm.  
  
“Mmm,” hummed Inez, rubbing a hand over her eyes. She was still shivering, but her teeth were clacking together less. “Not fantastic, but I’ll live.”  
  
Vetra’s mandibles fluttered. “Glad to hear it. You stay here– I’ll comm the Tempest, request extraction. Jaal, keep her warm.”  
  
He nodded, and clamped his hand over her good shoulder– the other one was _burning_ anyway. “Good idea.”  
  
Inez could faintly hear Vetra barking orders at Kallo, saying something about Lexi, and kicking, and ‘ _Ryder’s ass_ ’. Jaal’s poncho– _rofjiin_ , she reminded herself– was drawn tight around her, restraining her movements, but keeping the cold out the best they could. The fabric itself seemed to have its own heat; _fascinating._     
  
“Pathfinder, your heartbeat has slowed, but your vitals are stable,” said SAM, into her ear. “Doctor T’Perro has requested that you report to the med-bay immediately upon arrival to the Tempest. Your core temperature is rising.”  
  
“Thank you. Tell her I’ll be right there.”  
  
Jaal raised his brow, peering at her with something like concern, and Inez smiled. It made his mouth twitch in a peculiar way.  
  
“Don’t worry, I was talking to SAM. We have a private channel.”  
  
“Ah– I feared you were talking to yourself. Lexi never mentioned deliriousness as a symptom.”  
  
This time, she laughed, and felt Jaal twitch. _Odd_ , but Inez paid it no mind– she supposed she didn’t exactly laugh often. It was probably something he hadn’t heard before.  
  
“Hey, I– uh,” she began, shifting a little; not quite _uncomfortably_ , but almost. “I didn’t thank you. Haven’t thanked you. Uh– thank you.”  
  
Jaal simply beamed in response– a wide, warm smile– and the three sat in relative silence until the whirring of the Tempest’s engines sounded outside, and Kallo announced, over the comms, “ _Extraction in_ _5, 4, 3, 2–_ ”  
  
Inez tried to sit, but the jolting of the Nomad sent her falling into the angara’s chest, instead. Her cheeks reddened, and his blossomed blue– so he _did_ blush.    
  
“– _1_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, as usual! love you guys, you make my little world go 'round <3 
> 
> I love hearing from you guys, so please, tell me what you liked! tell me what you didn't! tell me your dog's name!  
> if you guys have any suggestions for scenarios for this, or my other jaal/ryder work, i'd love to hear them x


	4. of a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'If there were ever a personification of the word ‘ _bittersweet_ ’, her name would be inez ryder.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god I'm sorry it's more angst I'm unstoppable  
> but!! feelings!! they're definitely getting somewhere! next chapter will be the kett camp. Big Plot Happenings and all that jazz  
> also, school's going back on wednesday, so updates won't be as regular then, but I'll try and pump out another chapter beforehand!! also, I think I'm starting to develop the tone of this particular story a little better, so once I've finished, I might go ahead and rewrite the first couple of chapters 
> 
> as always, I love you guys, please enjoy! x

Somehow, thought Jaal, they had gone backwards.  
  
Inez was distant, and colder than she had been before– it was as if some tide between them had changed and dragged her away, further into the abyss and far, far from him. It was driving him mad. He had seen her once, perhaps twice, since, and made evident by his investigations around the Tempest, it had been the same for everyone else, as well. It was as though she simply ceased to exist.  
  
Jaal didn’t like to think of that, though. It made him _hurt_ in a peculiar, yet achingly familiar way.  
  
He hadn’t even seen her come out to get food, or shower, or anything. She was perpetually locked up in that room of hers, coming out only to go planetside, and receding immediately upon arrival. He wasn’t an idiot– Jaal knew that Lexi had her on some kind of safety plan, he had seen the doctor tapping down notes ‘ _discreetly_ ’ while she ‘ _inconspicuously hung around_ ’ when he and Liam had been discussing the matter. In fact, she seemed to be the only person Inez had spoken to, or continued to do so regularly– he had seen her engage momentarily with Cora, an odd, tense exchange of few words and avoided glances.  
  
Odd. He thought she had Cora had been close, but perhaps, he had been wrong. Though, saying that, he knew Inez had been good friends with Liam, too, and the only time _he_ had seen her was when she took he and Vetra down to Eos, to collect some things. Even then, SAM had called them over the comms, and she had met them in the airlock.  
  
Jaal had thought _they_ were close, as well. There had been a short time in which she had spoken to him freely, in a less… _jarringly professional_ manner than that she generally conversed in. And then came the situation on Voeld, at which time he had felt something between them shift, something warm. But Voeld was a cold, cold place– there was no _warmth_ there.    
  
He was foolish to have thought otherwise.  
  
The lights of the Tempest were dim, and the ship was well into its night cycle– Cora remained at the research table, pinning some document with that indomitable gaze of hers. The human never quite seemed happy, and not in the same fashion as the Pathfinder; no, it was as if something _annoyed_ Cora, just… _endlessly_. It seemed to Jaal a decidedly unpleasant way to be, but he liked her well enough. He could appreciate her strength, and had gained somewhat of a newfound respect for her when Inez had disclosed just how much control went into using her biotics as she did.  
  
He slipped past her, and despite that she could undoubtedly hear him, Cora didn’t acknowledge his presence– that was perhaps for the best, thought Jaal. The lieutenant seemed out of sorts. Well– that seemed to apply to everyone, at the moment; even Liam had been testier than usual. It put the angara on edge.  
  
Inez was a grave soul. He understood that– there were, after all, people like that amongst his own– but she had a sort of unfamiliar _solemness_ about her. Quiet, like a whisper– a kind of... _emptiness_ , per se. A lack of something.  
  
_Perhaps I am reading too far into it_ , thought Jaal. But he was certain that he could see the void– the abyss– in her dark gaze.  
  
It was peculiar. Inez wasn’t bright, not like Liam, or Peebee, or Suvi or Gil. She was unyielding; a column, of sorts, braced beneath an incredible weight. And yet, Jaal found himself curious– he wanted to know her beyond the armor, beyond the title. She was of flesh and bone, just like him, but that was easy to forget.  
  
Sometimes, it was as if she were made of steel. Or perhaps ice– no, _ice melted_. Inez didn’t.  
  
The door to the crew hallway opened, and Jaal paused. The door to the medbay was open, but Lexi was asleep– he remembered, because she had admonished Liam for snoring, and proceeded to kick him out of the crew quarters. The man in question was now asleep on his couch, away from the doctor’s wrath.  
  
Padding down the hall in silence, Jaal mused that it was probably Inez, and that he was probably intruding, considering it was 3AM. Humans had odd sleep cycles– they slept right through the dark morning, in long, sustained sessions, and woke at an alarm, set for 0600. Initially, he’d been a pest– wandering around the ship and tinkering loudly while people tried to sleep. Now, though, he’d adapted, and nobody really seemed to mind his walks– in fact, there had been a point in which he would often see Inez, making her way around the ship in the dark. Jaal had never tried to engage her; she always had this peculiar, distant look about her– like a wraith, almost, floating around another plane of being.  
  
Then they had met that morning on the training mats, and something between them had palpably changed. Though it seemed as if they were back to square one, now.  
  
The medbay was quiet–sterile– and  the lights looked too bright, somehow. Too artificial, like nothing they shone upon could truly look real.  
  
Or... perhaps that was just _her_ , cross-legged on the floor, head tipped back against the leg of the bed and hair unbound, looking up at the ceiling with wistful eyes. Her hands wrung around one another, and Jaal noticed, distantly, that they quivered, just that little bit. They quite often did. He had heard her put it down to stress when talking to Suvi, one day– Inez tended to do that with a great deal of things. She was either stressed, or cold, or ‘just tired’. But he could tell there was something more there, something he had yet to quite grasp; something he wasn’t certain he _could_.  
  
Inez didn’t seem to hear him enter, but when he knocked gently against the wall– something he had learned humans considered polite– her eyes shot to his, devoid of the subtle tragedy he had seen in them before. Perhaps a little accusatory.  
  
“Jaal.”  
  
Just a single word, not quite bitten, yet not said kindly. It stung, but he disregarded it, and took a seat in front of her– angara were more suited to seats, as sitting on the ground could prove difficult in tighter spaces, considering how his legs folded. Inez was small, though– she only occupied a little section of the room, drawn in around herself as she was. Without her armor– be that the physical or metaphorical kind– she seemed a great deal... _less_. Less looming, less intimidating, less stony.  
  
He’d never noticed how small she was until he had wrapped her in his rofjiin, and folded the fabric nearly twice over.  
  
“Inez.”  
  
The Pathfinder blinked, eyes running up and down his form before landing upon his face. Her head tilted, almost imperceptibly, and her arms gathered around her midsection, wrapping tight. She looked cold. “We’re on route to Voeld, to infiltrate the kett facility and save the Moshae. Estimate is roughly three days, maybe four if we consider the scourge.”  
  
Jaal nodded. He was aware of the plan, and prayed to the stars that it would work. Without the Moshae, the angara would be crippled– a people without their figurehead, without their _inspiration_. Many of his kin found Inez’s sympathy and promise of aid strange, but Jaal didn’t question it; not anymore, at least. She, and the Initiative, had lost a great deal, including a figurehead of their own. Several, if he recalled correctly. An entire wing of leaders had been wiped out by the scourge while they were still in cryosleep.  
  
“You have my thanks,” said Jaal, slowly; carefully. “The kett had expelled any trust the angara could hold for any species save our own. I... am glad you have given us a reason to hope, Inez.”  
  
_Given me a reason to hope_ , said his tone. Inez regarded him for a moment, then shifted her gaze to the floor in between them.  
  
“Hope is all we have to hold on to,” she said, voice quiet and raw. Perhaps from disuse. “Without it, we would crumble under the face of adversity.”  
  
That sounded like another recital, something else that had been drilled into her time and time again until she repeated out of habit. Like muscle memory, but for words. But there was something in her gaze, something deep and _aching_ and gentle that had him wondering what exactly those words meant, and who had taught them to her.  
  
He nodded, and the two sat in silence for a long, tense moment. Inez looked haunted, almost, staring into something far away– Jaal wondered what she saw, what lay there behind that lost gaze. Then he wondered if he wanted to know.  
  
There was, he thought, a tragedy in her. In that someone like her had lost so much, had the weight of the world dropped upon her in a time of mourning; had she been different, before Andromeda? What had her parents been like? Had she had friends, or siblings, goals and dreams, a partner, even? Jaal found a great sadness in that it didn’t matter anymore, not truly. Who she was, who she may have been, it all got left behind in the Milky Way, with the people who had shaped her in that life. This was supposed to be new; new life, fresh start, new family, new friends, new _home_. It had betrayed her– taken away what she was, and thrust her into the shoes of another.  
  
Or perhaps, Inez had always been the same. Jaal couldn’t imagine her as a child, nor a teenager; there was no rebelliousness in her, no naivety. Saying that, naivety was rarely something one was born without– generally, it was _taken_. Stolen.  
  
He wondered how old she had been when she had first fired a gun. Then, he wondered how old she had been when it had first hit its mark. The first _person_. It wasn’t something that escaped a person, not easily.  
  
Jaal’s brow knitted. Who would she be if they had never met? If–  
  
“What’s your family like, Jaal?”  
  
The question took him off guard nearly as much as her tone; fond, and almost... _nostalgic_. Bittersweet. She was looking at him with a different sort of expression, now– one that had all of his questions about who she used to be, who she could have been, who she would become, escaping him.  
  
Who she _was_ , he decided, was enough.  
  
“Large,” he replied, if a little cautiously, “and _close_. Family is part of angaran culture, of our lifestyle– they are big, and we all have many mothers, and more siblings. Familial bonds are close, usually, and mothers are respected by not just their children, but by the community.”  
  
Inez gave him a look, and a small, odd smile. “I asked about _your_ family, Jaal. You said you all have many mothers, yeah? Surely, everyone has a birthmother?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“What’s yours’ name?”  
  
_That_ mollified him. He remembered Inez speaking of her mother– and, very vaguely, of her death– with a great sadness in her eyes. Surely hearing of his would simply worsen the sting of her loss?  
  
“Sahuna Ama Darav,” he said, after a moment spend trying to gauge her reaction. She simply motioned for him to continue. “She’s a member of the Resistance– most everyone in my family is. She pretends to have favourites, but really, all of us are her favourite;  if she ever tells you otherwise, she is lying.”  
  
Inez smiled– real, and fond, and it warmed him up from the inside. “Sounds like my mom. She’d change her favourite every day, depending on who’d pushed her buttons– Dante was a _shit_ , though, so usually it fell to me. God, sometimes it made him angry, but really, she loved us both the same.”  
  
_Dante_?  
  
“You have a brother?”     
  
Suddenly, her expression shifted, and she fidgeted with what he assumed was discomfort. Ah– perhaps he should have left it. Jaal had never heard anyone speak of a second Ryder, and found himself wondering where he was, unless... no, _surely_ , he wasn’t dead. Inez had to have _someone_. She couldn’t have made the journey with her family, only to end up alone.  
  
“I do. We’re– uh– _twins_ , actually,” said Inez, pausing to give a soft, gentle chuckle. “I’m older.”  
  
Jaal smiled. There was real, palpable _love_ in her face, but a sorrow, too. “Did he... come with you?”  
  
A pause. “Yeah, but there was a malfunction during the revival process. He’s in a medically induced coma, at the moment, but the doctors say he’ll be okay.”  
  
So, not dead. Perhaps it was no better, knowing that one you love is _there_ , yet so out of reach, but Jaal would never say so aloud. He would never wish to worsen her grief, especially if her brother was a point of solidarity. _Twins_ – angaran births were often multiple, though he had not personally been gifted with any twin or triplet siblings. He wondered if they looked similar, as their twins often did.  
  
“Would you tell me about him?”  
  
Inez blinked, and seemed to weigh his request, for a moment. Then she shrugged, as if to say ‘ _why not_ ’, and gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen grace her features.  
  
_Stars_ , she was beautiful.    
  
“Dante and I are– uh– _very_ different,” she began, gesturing a little with her hands as she went. “He’s– well, he _was_ – a field engineer for the Alliance. He’s an analytical type; always been good with numbers, puzzles, equations, tactics, etcetera. He got admonished a lot for not being professional enough– being too much of a _smartass_ – but really, he’s better with people than I am. Dante’s always had a bigger presence than me– he’d have been a good Pathfinder.”  
  
Jaal smiled. They did sound different, but Inez clearly loved him a great deal. It almost angered him, though; people so different weren’t comparable but– unless Inez had provided that analysis completely of her own observation– people had clearly been comparing _them_. Perhaps she did it herself.  
  
‘ _He’d have been a good Pathfinder_ ’, were her words, but Jaal could clearly hear the underlying follow-up of, ‘ _Better than me_.’     
  
“You are close?”  
  
A small, reserved chuckle. “Yeah. I think you’d like him.”  
  
He thought about that for a moment. It inspired an odd, warm feeling deep within; one he hadn’t experienced, not quite. There was something about the gentle way she had said it, accent twisting the sounds around in a decidedly pleasant manner– the later it got, the thicker it became. He’d noticed that, one day, but couldn’t pinpoint when, exactly.  
  
She looked different like this. Younger, maybe– the hard lines and angles of her face had softened into something friendlier, more _approachable_. Suddenly, her eyes didn’t seem so cold, and her mouth– when _not_ set in her trademark firm line– was full, round, and soft. And when she smiled, she had odd little indents in her cheeks; it was fascinating, how much it changed her. And yet, still there remained dark, dark circles beneath her eyes, a strain– a _tension_ – in her posture, and a steady quiver in her cold, blue hands.  
  
If there were ever a personification of the word ‘ _bittersweet_ ’, her name would be Inez Ryder.  
  
Jaal looked at her– really _looked_ at her– and extended a wary hand to hover just beside her arm, not quite touching, but offering the comfort if she wanted it. Inez seemed to draw into herself, and stars, she was so _small_. Short, even for a human– the smallest person aboard, actually.  
  
“Inez, are you... _okay_?”  
  
 It was such a _human_ thing, to ask a person visibly stricken if they were ‘ _okay_ ’, as if they had bumped their hip, or grazed their knee. But it was what he had heard them all say to one another, with reassuring hands on the shoulders and gentle, inviting smiles, and when the words escaped him, Inez blinked, and– with a sad, sad look– leant into his offered hand. Beyond the armor, beyond the steel, beyond that ‘ _almost-happy-yet-so-far-off_ ’ smile, she just looked _scared_. Scared, and small.  
  
“The truth?”  
  
“The truth.”  
  
A pause, and then, a shuddering breath. “I want to be. I just– I don’t know _how_. Everyone praises my father like he was some patron saint, like he’s a hero, like he’s going to rise from the _fucking grave_ and deliver us into eternity. I can’t go anywhere without hearing ‘ _Alec Ryder’_ , or someone talking about how they wish he was still here, and how the Initiative would’ve thrived if he was still here, and how everything would be better if he was _still here_ –”  
  
At that, her voice broke, and she trailed off into a small, brittle silence. “As if I don’t know that already.”  
  
Her skin beneath his hand was cold, and when her eyes met his, they were wet with tears. “I was scared of my dad, Jaal. I was so fucking scared of him– of him, and dying, and the unknown, and the void. This... _fragility_ , it’s all I’ve ever known. And he taught me to hate it, to _fear_ it. And I’ll always resent him for that.”  
  
Jaal didn’t know what to say; as if anything could be said to that. Her eyes shone, but not a single tear escaped her– afraid of fragility; afraid of _weakness_.    
  
“ _Feeling_ shit,” she continued, raising a shaking hand to brush away the hair that had fallen on her forehead, “is– I was taught that it was weak. That it was something I had to overcome, some kind of _obstacle_. And I don’t know what it is, Jaal, but when I’m with you, I feel... _something_. And it scares me.”  
  
A warmth bloomed inside of his stomach, enveloping and searing and all-encompassing– _something_. Inez averted her gaze, but made no effort to escape his touch; in fact, she seemed to be leaning into it, if subconsciously.  
  
“The only ways I know how to deal with fear are to conquer, and to run. And... I don’t know how to conquer this, how to press this down– I’m _afraid_. I’m afraid, and cold, and I don’t know what to do except _run_.”    
  
He clasped a hand overtop one of hers, marvelling at how small it was in his. Jaal could feel his cheeks burning, and an odd feeling anchoring him to the ground– a mixture of encompassing happiness, and a terrible, bitter sadness. This was what lay below the surface, underneath the titanium plating and hard, stone skin. This is what ran her veins cold, and kept her awake into the morning, and held her in its cruel, iron grip.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You– I have never known someone to transcend the bounds of their own being, but you, you are... _everything_. Time will heal, and this? This can wait, until you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
Inez reached forwards to press the flat of her palm to the side of Jaal’s face, and where her hand landed, he could feel the heat of a thousand suns, a pulse unlike any other. _This_ was new, something foreign, and alien, and beautiful– just like her.  
  
She smiled, and again, it was sad. “I’ll be ready, one day. I promise. But for now, I just– I need to run a little longer.”  


* * *

 

 _His visage was something carved from a dream._  
  
Inez tossed and turned, and dug her nails into her palms, and hid her face beneath her pillow. Nothing would expel it, expel him. The fear, the warmth, the _rush_ – he was everything, too much like what she’d been warned about.  The feeling was odd, and hot, and it thawed her heart into beating but suffocated her in the same breath.    
  
She wanted to kiss him, wanted to _feel_ him. Wanted to love him.    
  
_She didn’t want to dream_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!  
> please, tell me what you think; if you liked it, if you didn't, etc, I love hearing from everyone! <3  
> should I try and slow burn this out, or have them get together soon? :o the possibilities 
> 
> also, feel free to send me a message or whatnot at srydcr.tumblr.com xx


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